


i'll fill your empty hands

by super



Series: because you are my home [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, First Time, Intercrural Sex, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 17:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20119192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/super/pseuds/super
Summary: The love’s always been there. Wonwoo, Soonyoung and Chan are still waiting to see what shape it takes.---Continues from the events of Even If Your Hands Are Empty.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> lee chan has two hands: one to carry the kpop industry and the other for wonwoo and soonyoung to fight over
> 
> and happy comeback day everyone!

Soonyoung takes pride in a job well done. 

Comeback season is fast approaching and with it comes the weight of responsibility that Soonyoung has learnt to shoulder better over the years. It finds him choreographing in the practice room on their day off, which also means that Chan is here and working with him every step of the way, taking on his share of the burden with open arms. It’s brand new and familiar at the same time: Seventeen’s music has evolved along with its members but Chan remains a constant by Soonyoung’s side through it all.

The Pokécenter theme chimes and _ that _, in particular, is new. As is the fondness that softens the frown of concentration on Chan’s face.

Wonwoo is sprawled in the middle of the pile of mats by the door with his Switch and Soonyoung’s responsible for that, too, because he is a Certified Love Genius and he refuses to let Wonwoo forget it. Chan ambles off when the song ends and flops on top of Wonwoo, who hands him water without looking up from his game. It’s all very domestic and adorable and a little bit disgusting and Kwon Soonyoung (Master of Love, Orchestrator of Happiness, Father of Tigers) made all of it happen.

Chan has slid all the way down to the floor and is stretching out his quads by the time Soonyoung reaches them.

“Late lunch?” he asks, squinting up at Soonyoung.

Soonyoung makes impatient grabby hands and Chan shares his water with him. “Don’t you have some dating to do?”

Wonwoo stretches and sinks further into his nest of practice mats. “Chan wanted to be here,” he says, sounding quite unbothered. Soonyoung kicks at his foot just to annoy him and grins when it works. Wonwoo aims a kick at his shin in retaliation and Soonyoung hops away before it connects. 

“Sorry,” Chan says. “It didn’t feel right to leave Soonyoung to work on it alone.” 

Wonwoo laughs softly. “I’m well aware of your work-related FOMO, don’t worry.” 

Chan shoots Wonwoo a grateful smile before turning back to Soonyoung. Chan’s hand finds Wonwoo’s ankle and Soonyoung watches his thumb pass back and forth over the pale skin.

“So yeah — lunch? It’ll be a late birthday treat from me, hyung, you can’t say no to that.”

There are few things Soonyoung loves more than food, dance, and attention and Chan is a gracious provider of all three.

“You had me at free food.”

\---

Maybe Wonwoo’s being too cautious. Maybe he’s just not ready to leave the little bubble he and Chan have created around themselves since Okinawa. Only Soonyoung, who orchestrated the whole thing, has any knowledge of their relationship, and with each day that passes Wonwoo grows increasingly surprised that he’s managed to keep it to himself.

And if Wonwoo’s being honest, despite the enormity of what happened between him and Chan, nothing much has changed since.

Wonwoo still takes Chan on day trips in their free time and he still destroys Chan on Mario Kart whenever they find the time to play, pressed together shoulder to knee on Wonwoo’s bed. They still live a floor apart from each other with zero privacy to call their own and Chan remains a workaholic and consummate professional who spends most of his free time in the practice room. 

Everything is the same where it counts — Wonwoo and Chan make damn sure of it — but there have been changes too, secreted away from prying eyes, and Wonwoo holds those closest to his heart. 

What’s different now is that he knows what Chan sounds like when Wonwoo kisses him at the entryway of their apartment at 3am before he puts his slippers on. He knows the soft cotton of Chan’s favourite t-shirt with the stretched-out collar and the way Chan’s chases after affection on the tips of his toes before he lets Wonwoo go, his voice round with sentiment in the embrace of shadows when he says good night.

You know — the important things. Moments stolen in a packed dorm, from an equally packed work schedule. 

It’s hard to carve out space for two people when they live on different floors altogether but Wonwoo is nothing if not patient.

Chan texts him a link to a cat video when they’re both in their respective beds. Wonwoo replies with a dinosaur emoji and counts his blessings before he goes to sleep. 

\---

Hong Kong is a blur of energy drinks and screaming fans, merely a pitstop as they scramble from one end of the earth to another.

Chan’s heartbeat pounds in his ears when they all tumble off the stage and back into street clothes, their minds already on the next performance. Soonyoung gets his head stuck in his shirt in the rush to make their next flight and Chan sorts him out by yanking at the hem of his shirt, laughing at the way his hair sticks out in tufts around his ears when he’s finally free.

They bounce from Hong Kong back to Seoul again before they catch their flight to New York. Chan is dead on his feet by the time they finally find their way onto their America-bound plane.

“You alright?” Wonwoo murmurs during the in-flight safety announcement. He reaches over to touch Chan’s wrist across the aisle and has to pull his hand back to allow the air stewardess to pass instead. Wonwoo sighs and rubs at his eye. 

Chan yawns and burrows deeper into the jacket Soonyoung has lent him. “I’m good,” he says, appreciating the aborted gesture for what it was. Maybe if they’re lucky they’ll end up sharing a room in New York. “Nothing a nap won’t fix. You should rest too, hyung.”

Wonwoo exhales slowly through his nose and slumps further down in his seat, all the extra leg room the company paid for in business class barely enough to accommodate him.

Soonyoung nods off in the seat beside him, arms crossed and snoring gently, his weary head finally coming to rest on Chan’s shoulder. Chan scoots a little closer so Soonyoung doesn’t wake up with a massive crick in his neck. 

“Good night,” Wonwoo says wryly as the clouds part and the cabin floods with sunlight.

Chan’s ears pop from the pressure when he smiles.

“See you when I wake up.” 

\---

The energy pouring from the crowd in New York chases away the lingering effects of jet lag. Soonyoung’s gone through two cans of Monster before even hitting the red carpet and he feels the love and adrenaline coursing through his veins like a drug when they take the stage, his members incandescent and beautiful beside him.

He misses Seungkwan — they all do — and while they try their hardest to patch up the hole in their formation at short notice, muscle memory is hard to reprogram. Wonwoo makes a mistake halfway through their set and Soonyong laughs into a hot mic because Wonwoo never messes up, ever.

“Hyung, where were you going?” Chan teases when they’re finally backstage, still sweating in the summer heat and unwilling to change out of his stage clothes until he’s cooled down enough. Soonyoung doesn’t remember those pants being _ quite _ this tight on Chan, but he supposes some time has passed since they’ve had to perform in this particular set of outfits. It’s yet another reminder of how much Chan has grown and changed under Soonyoung’s nose.

“We thought you were walking home to Korea when Aju Nice started,” Soonyoung chimes in.

Wonwoo huffs and flings his towel at Chan, who is gleefully imitating Wonwoo’s confused wander, much to Seungcheol’s delight. “I forgot I was supposed to be standing at Seungkwan’s marker, you little shit.” 

Chan cackles and clings to Soonyoung for support. “Is it back in Korea where Seungkwan is?” 

Wonwoo launches himself at them and Soonyoung is caught in a mess of flailing limbs before he slides off his chair in tears, his foot still stuck in Chan’s grip somehow. He lies on the floor and giggles with his leg held hostage until Jeonghan separates them.

He’s started sweating all over again but he doesn’t mind it at all.

\---

**[ kwon hoshi, master of love ] [3 Members]**

**[ Soonyoung ]** im heading out to watch a musical or something w the others

**[ Chan ]** have fun???

**[ Soonyoung ]** u have... 4 hours?? idk how long these things are

**[ Soonyoung ]** just dont like. fuck in my bed or whatever. use chans. febreeze the whole room when ur done

**[ Chan ] **LDLKDF hYUGN

**[ Soonyoung ]** its only polite

**[ Chan ] **STOP

**[ Wonwoo ]** Surely there exists a better way to phrase all of that. 

**[ Soonyoung ]** ok ur welcome byee

\---

As annoying and embarrassing as Soonyoung’s brand of meddling is, it gives Wonwoo the opportunity to press Chan into the sheets and suck pretty bruises down the insides of his thighs. Chan sighs quietly into it and the noise tugs at something tangled and complicated inside Wonwoo’s chest.

There is something perplexing about only getting Chan to himself like this in the inoffensive blandness of hotel rooms. It is liminality in the space where Wonwoo wants permanence and routine instead and it makes him greedy and desperate, grasping for more than he’s allowed. Soonyoung has ceded as much time with his favourite dongsaeng to Wonwoo as he can possibly spare, but there is a small part of Wonwoo — the ungrateful, ugly part of him — that envies the fact that they live on the same floor and get to work on all the same things. 

“Would it be weird if I said that I’ve missed you?” Chan says to the ceiling, his voice strung tight. “I know we see each other every day, but I just — ah, _ fuck _, hyung, right there — i-it’s not the same, you know?” 

Wonwoo knows, oh, how he does, and he demonstrates his understanding with an open-mouthed kiss to Chan’s cock. There’s barely any give to Chan’s thighs when he leans his full weight upon them to hold him down.

“We’ll have a world tour soon,” Chan babbles, filling the silence as per usual, and Wonwoo lets the words wash over him in a comforting stream. “We’ll have more chances to stay in hotels, so maybe — maybe if we’re careful we could —?” 

Wonwoo closes his eyes when Chan’s hands find his hair and clench tight. There’s still so much to catalogue and commit to memory. 

“I want to room with you, hyung,” Chan says, his voice high and pleading, cracking at the end of his sentences, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Please let me room with you.”

“Of course,” Wonwoo rasps, feeling scraped raw. The muscles in Chan’s thighs jump when Wonwoo presses his thumb just under the head of Chan’s cock. “Chan-ah, we’ll figure things out. Soonyoung’ll help us.”

“Okay,” Chan says quietly, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again, relief softening the set of his shoulders. He wonders why there was doubt in the first place; as if Wonwoo could ever say no to anything Chan asked of him. He takes Chan in his mouth again and is rewarded with a moan.

Despite how he’s talked his way through most of the blowjob, Chan is oddly quiet when he finally comes. Wonwoo finds it endearing, but that can be said of most anything Chan does these days because Wonwoo is just _ that _gone for him. And the way his nose wrinkles when he tastes the come on Wonwoo’s tongue definitely counts as one of those instances.

“This is a lot harder that I thought it’d be,” Chan laments as Wonwoo noses at his jaw. He tilts his head so Wonwoo can graze his teeth along the length of the tendon there, Chan’s hands alternating between petting the ridge of Wonwoo’s scapula and clutching at his biceps. 

“Having regrets?” Wonwoo asks.

“Of course not,” Chan replies immediately, and Wonwoo feels the lump in his throat subside. “I just kind of wish you had an actual room in the dorms, though. Mine’s too crowded for any sort of privacy.” 

Wonwoo sighs and rolls off Chan, who immediately claims the extra space with a languid stretch. Wonwoo hears his spine pop and gives him a congratulatory pat on the ass. “I cannot stress enough how little thought I put into the possibility of having sex when I moved my bed outside.” 

Chan laughs and kneels between Wonwoo’s legs.

“Funny how things worked out since, huh.” 

\---

“So I was thinking,” Chan says later, stretched out on his belly and scrolling through the Youtube comments on his latest Danceology, not quite registering all the words on his screen. He hazards a glance at Wonwoo, who is watching an ASMR video on his phone, his bony elbow occasionally poking Chan in the side.

“Mm?”

“You should fuck me.” 

Wonwoo closes the app immediately and squints at Chan. Chan squints back, because neither of them have their glasses on. 

“Pretty sure we just fucked, Chan,” Wonwoo says slowly.

Chan bundles up the covers under him until he has a decent mound to hide half his face in. He mumbles the rest of his proposal into the linens, courage suddenly failing him. 

“... Did you just say ‘butt stuff’?” Wonwoo asks, incredulous.

“_ Oh my god _,” Chan says, regretting everything already. Wonwoo laughs and drags him closer to press a kiss to his temple and Chan lets him, taking the covers with him to protect what’s left of his pride. 

“I’d like more details, please,” Wonwoo murmurs against his cheek, and Chan feels his face heat up.

“I have uh —” Chan lets out a breath as Wonwoo begins to kiss the scattering of moles on his face, starting with the one just under his eye. “Um. Relevant supplies in my suitcase.” 

Wonwoo pauses. “Right now?” 

Chan nods. “And I showered earlier, so. You know,” he waves his hand weakly, having apparently lost the ability to complete any of his sentences. Wonwoo’s expression is hard to read. “I just figured it’d be easier if we tried it in a hotel. Sorry if I’m being presumptuous..?” 

“Do you mean to say,” Wonwoo says lowly, dark eyes trained on Chan. “That you got yourself ready for me while you were in the shower?”

“Yeah,” Chan says, skin heating up for another reason altogether. Wonwoo makes a choked-off noise in his throat and Chan’s confidence returns. “Yeah, I did. Do you want to see?” 

Wonwoo’s grip on his hip bone tightens as he sits up. “Show me.” 

Chan levers himself up onto his elbows and tucks a leg under himself, feeling the skin on the back of his neck prickle. The A/C kicks in with a sudden whir and Chan jolts. Wonwoo soothes a palm across his lower back. Chan hears Wonwoo’s breathing hitch and turns his face into the bedcovers so his brain doesn’t overanalyze it and self-destruct on him. 

Wonwoo traces a curious finger around his hole and a full body shudder rolls its way down Chan’s shoulders to the tips of his toes.

“Oh fuck, hyung,” Chan groans, his hips jerking. It’s not the same when it’s someone else doing it — not even close. “Wonwoo hyung —”

“Can I?” Wonwoo asks, because he’s polite and gentlemanly and smart and perfect, and he, for some inexplicable reason, likes Chan _ back _, and insists on treating him like he’s precious.

“Please,” Chan begs, thinking about Wonwoo’s long, graceful fingers and the brand new calluses on his palms from his new gym habit. He pulls his other leg in and arches his back, hoping it’s enough of an invitation. “I swear to god I’m going to lose my entire mind if you don’t finger me right now.” 

Wonwoo’s laughter is a low rumble. He presses a finger into Chan and immediately short-circuits his brain. 

“I’ve read a few things on the topic,” Wonwoo admits, and the small part of Chan that isn’t busy moaning into the mattress takes note of how breathless he sounds. Chan did_ that. _ “You have to let me know if my theoretical knowledge isn’t working out for you.”

“Got it,” Chan says far too quickly. “Now move, hyung.” 

\---

**[ kwon hoshi, master of love ] [ 3 Members ]**

**[ Soonyoung ] 7:32PM :** guys im on my way back

**[ Soonyoung ] 7:36PM :** i mean the coast should be clear right u cant still be fucking

**[ Soonyoung ] 7:46PM :** bruh

**[ Soonyoung ] 8:01PM :** ?? ????

**[ Soonyoung ] 8:15PM :** wtf thats it im going in

\---

Soonyoung really doesn’t know what he expected. 

He might have, perhaps, on some intellectual level, considered the possibility of walking in on Chan and Wonwoo touching dicks because he let them have the room specifically to touch dicks, but in Soonyoung’s defence New York is humid this time of the year and he’d spent an extra half an hour sitting around in the lobby waiting for an all-clear text that never came.

Also he really needed to pee.

So when he keys into the room and finds Wonwoo fucking Chan into the sheets, Soonyoung decides immediately that he only holds half the blame for this. One-third of it, even. 

Chan lets out a strangled moan and Soonyoung panics and slams the door shut behind him before anyone else walks by and hears.

Wonwoo notices him first. 

“Shit —” he hisses, sweaty and flushed, his narrow hips pinning Chan against the mattress, looking wilder than Soonyoung’s ever seen him. “Are you fucking kidding me —”

Chan is slower to catch on and understandably so, but even his glassy, blissed-out gaze focuses when Soonyoung holds up both hands for some reason and yells: “IT’S BEEN HOURS. I GAVE YOU GUYS _ HOURS _.”

_ “Hyung!” _ Chan yelps, mortified, and Soonyoung is experiencing some kind of nightmarish deja vu.

Soonyoung turns around and faces the wall before he can do anymore damage. His heart threatens to pound out of his chest. 

“I saw nothing!” He lies, dropping all his shopping bags before fumbling for the door knob once more. Wonwoo groans somewhere behind him and it’s not the sexy kind of groaning — even Soonyoung knows that. “Sorry. I — uh — just text me when it’s safe to come back.”

He books it out of there before he receives an answer.

\---

**[ Soonyoung ** ♥ ** ]**

**[ Chan ] 8:41PM :** hyung?

**[ Chan ] 8:41PM :** you can come back now

\---

Chan knows it was a joke, but he really does spritz the room with obscenely expensive cologne after Wonwoo leaves. 

Soonyoung sniffs the air when he returns. “Is that Tom Ford?” he asks, sipping at his iced latte, looking like a person who has never seen Chan’s butthole and is also not currently haunted by the memory of it. 

Soonyoung thrusts a venti frappuccino at Chan and proceeds to gather up the bags he left on the floor to dump onto his bed.

“Thank you,” Chan says, unwrapping his straw and trailing after Sooonyoung awkwardly. He’s halfway to his own rumpled bed before he thinks better of it and perches in the armchair in the corner with his drink.

“Jeonghan and Seokmin made me buy all of this,” Soonyoung complains as he pulls tacky souvenir after tacky souvenir out of the bags. He brandishes an oversized I HEART NY shirt at Chan. “I paid real money for this, Chan, _ and _I have to wear it all to the airport when we leave?” 

Chan wants to laugh about it with Soonyoung — he really does — it’s a genuinely hilarious situation and normally he’d be the first to help Soonyoung assemble the worst possible outfit for maximum embarrassment. But instead he blurts: “Are we going to talk about it?” 

Soonyoung cocks his head at him and Chan winces at the lack of artifice in his words.

“Would you _ like _ to talk about how I saw you guys touching dicks?” 

Chan sets his drink down so he can bury his face in his hands. “Maybe not in so much detail,” he groans.

Soonyoung huffs softly and returns to rustling about his collection of paper bags. “It’s okay, Channie. It’s not that big of a deal.” 

Chan pulls his knees in closer to his body and cannot bring himself to regret the sweet ache that blooms after. Wonwoo had his fingers in him in the shower earlier, cleaning come out of him with careful hands, his wet lashes a dark smudge against his cheeks, brow furrowed in concentration. Chan knows how lucky he is, and how big a part Soonyoung has played in giving him all of this. 

“I’m sorry anyway,” Chan says. “We, uh, got distracted and forgot the time.”

Soonyoung’s smile is wicked. “Did you at least have fun? It looked like you did.” 

“I thought you didn’t see anything!” 

“I lied,” Soonyoung says easily. “I totally saw your butthole.” 

Chan sputters and nearly knocks his drink over. 

Soonyoung’s laughter bounces around the room and warms Chan.

“You look happy, Channie,” he observes, cheeks rounding with affection and Chan finds himself mirroring it, trying to parse the fullness in his heart. Soonyoung’s always taken care of him; Chan doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to put the gratitude and love he feels for Soonyoung into words, let alone repay it. “I’m glad for you.”

\---

Midnight finds Soonyoung washing the sticky New York summer off him before bed. Chan is off in Hansol’s room doing Chan things and Soonyoung has the room to himself until they finish working on the lyrics they’re tasked to write. 

So obviously Soonyoung is jerking off in the shower while Chan is away because he is a human being with a functioning penis who just saw two of his friends -- both of whom are objectively hot -- get each other off. 

It’s not that complicated or weird, he thinks, thumbing the head of his dick and letting the hot water beat down on him. It’s kind of like coming across a sexy pop-up ad on the internet and then jerking off to it, except this time it’s Wonwoo bending Chan in half and dragging frantic broken noises from Chan’s throat.

It’s Chan’s small, capable hands clutching at Wonwoo’s shoulders and the obscene slap of Wonwoo’s hips against Chan’s ass. 

Soonyoung groans and increases his pace, feeling dizzy from the scalding heat and the rising steam. He comes, shaking, against the tiles, thinking about having Chan under him and the way Wonwoo bares his teeth when he fucks into Chan. 

And that’s like…

That’s probably not good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to get messy.

\---

They finally get time off when they return to Seoul, although by their standards it just means taking a break from public appearances to throw themselves fully into preparing for their comeback. It’s grueling, mentally-exhausting work with no instant gratification from cheering fans but the new track is driving and loud — probably their loudest yet — and Soonyoung and Chan are having a field day with it.

Wonwoo and Soonyoung end their week with beer, but it’s really just an excuse to order a lot of chicken to go with it. 

“We haven’t done this in a while,” Soonyoung says. They’re both sweaty from practice still and Soonyoung’s T-zone has crossed the line from dewy into just plain greasy. 

Wonwoo bites into his yangnyeom chicken and finds that he’s grossly misjudged its temperature and ends up having to roll it around in his mouth to prevent it from burning his tongue. “We don’t actually do this very often,” he points out regardless, and solves his problem by taking a generous gulp of his beer. 

Soonyoung blinks, considering this. “... Is your relationship with Chan making us interact more?” 

Wonwoo snorts. “The only downside to it, to be honest.”  
  
“Well, fuck you too,” Soonyoung says as he munches cheerfully on pickled radish. “Don’t forget that I made it happen.” 

“You literally never let us forget it. Have you seen the title of our group chat?” 

“Shall I remind you how Chan pined after you for months and that you never noticed until I stepped in?”

“You didn’t do anyt— wait, did you say months?” Wonwoo asks. 

Soonyoung purses his lips and gestures at Wonwoo’s entire person with the universally-understood expression for ‘do you see the kind of shit I have to deal with?’.

“Yeah, months, genius. He just laid on the practice room floor a lot and told me about how smart and funny you were the whole time.” 

Wonwoo never knew. “... He thinks I’m funny?” 

“I can’t speak for his taste,” Soonyoung sniffs. 

Wonwoo takes a bite of chicken instead of saying anything scathing in return.

Soonyoung wrinkles his nose in disgust. “God, the look on your face — the two of you are disgusting, you know that?” 

“Well, maybe if you stopped walking in on us you’d have less to be disgusted by,” Wonwoo says, very reasonably.

“Maybe if you practiced some time management during your dick appointments I wouldn’t have to walk in on your pale ass,” Soonyoung snipes back, his face going red. 

Wonwoo laughs and digs into his food. “You sure complain a lot for someone who schedules all my dick appointments.”

"When I die," Soonyoung says darkly. "Then you will know." 

\---

“How do you live like this?” Wonwoo asks Soonyoung one day, when all three of them end up in his room after dinner. He shoves a bunch of rumpled clothes off Hansol’s bed before he hops onto it and Soonyoung clicks his tongue at him for adding to the mess on the floor. He’ll have to kick it aside later and that’s always a hassle.

“Very well, thanks,” Soonyoung says, stretching out in his own bed and grabbing Chan around the waist, simply because he is in a cuddly mood today and Chan is within arm’s reach. 

Chan flops obligingly in the direction Soonyoung pulls him towards, eyes still glued to his phone. 

Wonwoo makes a weak attempt at poking about Hansol’s side of the room. “Where does he put his headphones?” he asks. “I know I’m asking a lot of questions that I won’t get satisfactory answers to but how do you find anything in this mess?” 

Soonyoung smiles at Wonwoo and doesn’t help. He wiggles closer and watches the fixed camera footage of their practice session over Chan’s shoulder instead. “We have a system,” he says airily.

“Could the system help me find Hansol’s bluetooth headphones so I can start working on my verses?” 

“Try the shelf, hyung,” Chan suggests. 

“The what —”

“The one beside you — yeah, try that one.”

“I don’t see it, are you sure Hansollie keeps it here? Oh, no, wait —” Something clatters and Wonwoo swears. Chan’s giggle is a tiny ripple of movement under Soonyoung’s chin. “Never mind. I found it.”

Soonyoung slow claps.

It takes a bit of sniping and some careful maneuvering around laundry piles but they settle in eventually and lapse into comfortable not-silence. Soonyoung scratches out ideas in his notepad to the demo track, thirteen dots plotted out in a maze of arrows and scribbled notes, laying the big picture down before the ideas dissipate to the corners of his mind.

He ends up mulling over a transition for far too long.

Chan looks up when Soonyoung tosses his notepad aside and stretches out his shoulder. “Wah, you’re done already?” He asks, eyes going wide.

Soonyoung winces, both at the question and the sharp pull in his trapezius. “No,” he says, glancing across the room at Wonwoo, who is plugged in and nodding along to the music, his ballpoint moving steadily across the page. Soonyoung is jealous. “Do you think a groundbreaking idea will come to me if I go to sleep with the demo on repeat?” 

“Maybe,” Chan says, humouring him. He chews on his lower lip and puts his phone down. “Does your shoulder hurt?”

He wants to say no. It doesn’t do anyone any favours worrying over Soonyoung and his stupid shoulder problem this close to a comeback, not when there’s so much left to do. But Chan is shifting closer and touching him and Soonyoung is weak for affection, always has been, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t especially sweet coming from Chan. 

“Lie down, hyung,” Chan tells him, and Soonyoung glances at Wonwoo again, feeling like he shouldn’t. The guilt is preposterous; he wouldn’t hesitate if it was anyone else. Wonwoo doesn’t seem to care anyway, and Chan is pushing Soonyoung down and arranging his arms the way he wants them, the corners of his mouth tight with concentration.

“It really doesn’t hurt that much,” Soonyoung murmurs as Chan’s thumb digs into the meat of his shoulder without mercy. Soonyoung groans at the pain and the shocking, radiating relief that comes from the release.

Chan’s voice holds the curve of a smile. “You were saying?” 

“Fuuuuuuck,” Soonyoung moans. Chan laughs and applies his entire body weight to a nasty knot at the base of Soonyoung’s neck. He feels like he’s going to die, but in a really, really good way, as Chan forces another strangled sound from his throat with the heel of his palm. “Junnie’s taught you some next level shit.”

“Right? I’m pretty good at this,” Chan says, sounding smug, and Soonyoung would nod but he is a puddle at the moment and puddles cannot nod. Chan’s hands are very, very warm. 

“You’re good at everything, Channie,” Soonyoung agrees fervently. “You’re amazing.” 

Chan scoffs and goes to work on his back, incognizant of just how much Soonyoung means it.

The thing about slow-building pressure is that it never really registers until something gives. Soonyoung knows this better than anyone else; mindfulness was an especially hard lesson to learn, a wrenching pop in his shoulder and the illusion of invincibility shattered in front of thousands. Chan’s thumb catches in his shirt collar and drags across bare skin before it finds a pressure point and Soonyoung feels he might be teetering on the edge of something equally dangerous.

Soonyoung loses track of time. Even on the cusp of a truly unsettling personal revelation Soonyoung finds himself drifting, his consciousness settling between the sound of Wonwoo’s pen scratching across paper and Chan’s hand stroking down the length of his back over and over again.

“Is he asleep?” He hears Wonwoo ask quietly, faraway and muted. It stirs something warm and liquid in his chest and Soonyoung lets it seep into his bones.

Chan shifts and cards his hand through Soonyoung’s hair once, fingers lingering in the strands before he pulls away. The springs in Soonyoung’s mattress creak with loss. 

“Yeah,” he says equally softly. Soonyoung hears the unmistakable wet sound of a kiss and misses Chan’s hands already. “I think he’s been a little stressed lately.”

Wonwoo hums and smooths down the mess Chan’s made of Soonyoung’s hair. “You’re doing a very good job of taking care of him, though.” 

Someone draws a blanket over Soonyoung and the warmth is stifling. Soonyoung can hardly think. 

“Well, he takes good care of me, too.” 

Wonwoo’s voice is sweet with fondness. “You inspire that in a lot of people.”

A click of the light switch and the dull glow on the insides of Soonyoung’s eyelids goes dark. He wants them to stay. Maybe it’s not just about the sex, Soonyoung thinks as he pretends to be asleep. And that’s far, far worse. 

“Good night, hyung,” Chan says before they leave, unaware of the devastation he’s caused. 

Soonyoung lies awake in the dark and thinks he might be in trouble. 

\---

“Hyung, can I ask you something?”

Soonyoung is in the middle of something important (a giant bowl of kimchi fried rice) but he’s willing to drop everything (his chopsticks and spoon) should Lee Chan require it of him because he is a Good Hyung.

“Mmmghhn?” 

Chan leans in closer and opens his mouth and Soonyoung feeds him a spoonful of rice. 

“You know the slippers you got me for my birthday?” he asks with his mouth full, shoulder bumping up against Soonyoung’s. 

There is a lot that is endearing about Chan — Soonyoung’s never been a stranger to his particular brand of aegyo — but in light of recent and upsetting internal revelations, even the grain of rice stuck at the corner of Chan’s mouth is unbearably cute. Soonyoung tries his best to ignore it.

“You mean the ones you’re wearing right now?” he points out, crossing his arms before he does anything weird with his hands. “They’re good, aren’t they?”

“They are!” Chan agrees enthusiastically and Soonyoung puffs up a little with pride. “I like them a lot, hyung, thank you. But do you think you could tell me where I can buy another pair?”

Soonyoung gives up and runs his thumb across the corner of Chan’s lips to get at the grain of rice. It’s too distracting. Chan’s mouth goes soft and slack with surprise, freezing up as he always does when Soonyoung pulls something like this on him. 

“Do you need another pair? I can get them for you if you want,” he says. 

“Um, it’s not for me,” Chan admits. “I thought I could get a pair for Wonwoo hyung’s birthday, since he kept borrowing mine when we were in New York. He said it was comfortable.”

Ah. Soonyoung doesn’t have a name for the emotion that wells up at that but it is ugly and sour and Soonyoung is ashamed of its existence. 

“Couple slippers, eh?” he teases instead, watching Chan’s ears go pink.

Maybe it’s too much to ask for one thing that he and Chan share to remain theirs. What would Soonyoung know, anyway? He’s never dated anyone seriously before. Maybe it’s supposed to consume a person whole until there is no space left in their life for someone like Soonyoung. 

“I’ll text you the link now,” he says.

“Love you!” 

Chan’s phone pings in the other room. 

\---

Slowly but surely, things are falling into place.

Chan loves it best when they leave the detail work for last, when Soonyoung puts them to work and they clean their entire routine down to the very last eight-count. Nonetheless, it is bitter work when there are thirteen sets of limbs to coordinate. Tempers flare, as they always do, once the hour grows late. They fight and whine and struggle but it’s a well-worn path by now, and even if no one else but Chan likes it, the results are always, always worth it. 

Then again, Chan’s always been a bit of a masochist; he wears praise poorly if he hasn’t first hurt himself from clawing after it. 

The music cuts off suddenly.

“Again!” Soonyoung snaps. Chan nods and places his hand on Seungkwan’s waist once more, checking himself in the mirror as he does. The reflection of the clock says 3.23AM.

The music starts up again and Chan counts them both into the verse. Seungkwan is breathing hard and favouring his good leg and Chan tries his best to compensate for it but their new song is particularly unforgiving. Chan stumbles. Soonyoung clicks his tongue and cuts the music. 

“Don’t waste our time if you’re not going to put in your best effort,” Soonyoung mutters, but it’s loud enough to carry and pointed enough to wound. Seungkwan looks like he’s about to say something scathing in return and Chan catches his eye and shakes his head.

“Sorry,” Chan says instead, stamping viciously down on the hurt. There have been a great many awful things said about him — Chan has seen the comments on Instiz after all — but he has never been accused of not working hard enough. “I can go again, but I think Seungkwan needs to rest his ankle.”

“The hell is—”

“— I think,” Jeonghan interrupts sharply, staring Soonyoung down until he loses the stubborn set in his jaw. “I think it’s time for a fifteen-minute break.” 

“That wasn’t fair to you at all,” Seungkwan complains when they grab their bottles and sit in the corner furthest from Soonyoung’s ire. “What’s his problem?” 

Chan doesn’t know. He swipes at the sweat in his eyes and watches as Wonwoo argues with Soonyoung by the speakers. He wonders if there is time to work on the dance on his own after this.

“Doesn’t matter,” Chan says. “We’ll be stuck here a lot longer if we fight.” 

Seungkwan sighs and tests his ankle before getting up again. He offers a hand to Chan.

“God, I hate it when you’re right, Lee Chan.” 

\---

“Don’t even think about it,” Wonwoo says to Chan right after practice. 

“About what?” Chan asks. His things are scattered across the floor still and he’s refilling his bottle at the cooler while the others have begun to file out of the practice room in tired twos and threes. It really doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

“Chan-ah, it’s almost five in the morning. You can’t stay here any longer than this.” 

“It’s fine, hyung” Chan says, fiddling with the settings on the speakers. He flicks all the lights off and leaves the lone spotlight in the center for himself. “You should head home with the others and rest.”

Wonwoo watches Chan shake out the fatigue in his legs and check his form in the mirror.

“I think you should come home with me so we can _ all _ rest,” Wonwoo says, feeling like he’s talking to a particularly stubborn brick wall. “We still have practice at noon.” 

Chan makes a non-committal noise in his throat and goes through the movements of the opening verse with impeccable precision.

Wonwoo checks their surroundings before he takes Chan by the wrist.

“Listen,” he says, feeling the pull of tension before Chan relaxes into the hold. Wonwoo finds his pulse with the pad of his thumb and soothes it. “Soonyoung didn’t mean it. Don’t work yourself sick over something he said because he was stressed. You know how he is when he gets like that.” 

The look on Chan’s face is raw and complicated. Then he bows his head and takes in a long breath and Wonwoo knows he’s won.

“Let’s pack up,” Wonwoo says softly. “I’ll come in early with you later and we can work on it together.” 

\---

**[ Channie ** ♥ ** ]**

**[ Soonyoung ]** 5.13AM : i’m sorry.

**[ Soonyoung ]** 5.13AM : It wasn’t kind of me to say something like that.

**[ Chan ] **5:14AM : dont worry about it

**[ Soonyoung ]** 5.14AM : none of it’s true, you know that right

**[ Soonyoung ]** 5.14AM : you work harder than any of us, i was just being an asshole

**[ Soonyoung ]** 5.20AM : channie?

**[ Chan ] **11.22AM : its fine

**[ Chan ] **11.28AM : see you at practice

\---

Things are not great. 

Soonyoung doesn’t like the person he becomes when he’s backed into a corner. It turns him cruel and sharp and he says things he doesn’t mean, things that has Chan, who is their youngest and cannot retaliate freely, radiating quiet hurt all practice long, studiously avoiding Soonyoung’s gaze as he throws his entire body into the choreography like he has something to prove.

Seungkwan’s not speaking to him either, and that’s honestly more than fair, though he is not shy about maintaining eye contact and making sure that Soonyoung knows he’s mad at him.

Again: entirely fair. 

There are times when Soonyoung thinks he is undeserving of leadership and the love he receives. He tries his best to be worthy of it all, to return it tenfold so his members and Carats understand how much it means to him to be allowed to be the version of himself that shines. But today he is Kwon Soonyoung instead of Hoshi, an anxious little man who feels like he’s about to be crushed under the combined weights of expectation and ambition and lashing out because of it. Unworthy. 

He stays after practice and commandeers the whiteboard because there is still work to be done, and if Soonyoung isn’t a good hyung or a pleasant person to be around then the least he can do is the job that they’ve entrusted him with.

Even if it feels like all he’s doing these days is grasping for things that are out of his reach. 

Soonyoung doesn’t know how much time has passed but room brightens suddenly at some point and he looks up to find Wonwoo by the light switches, wearing street clothes and an inscrutable expression on his face. 

“I’ve come to evict you from the practice room,” Wonwoo says plainly. “I’m getting very good at it, so don’t test me.” 

Soonyoung scowls and says nothing. 

Wonwoo sighs. He looks pallid under the studio spotlights, though Soonyoung supposes that they all do to some degree when it’s comeback season.

“Come have late dinner with us,” he says, picking up Soonyoung’s things and tossing them haphazardly into his duffle. The lack of care for Soonyoung’s belongings is telling; he supposes it’s natural to be angry on behalf of your boyfriend. “The demo tracks will still be here tomorrow.” 

“Us?” 

“Chan made me come in here to get you.” 

Soonyoung doesn’t deserve this. 

“I’ll pass,” Soonyoung says. “Thanks.” 

Wonwoo’s phone trills in his pocket and he fishes it out to look at it. “I think it’s time you stop sulking and apologize to Chan so we can have a hot meal for the first time in two days,” he says while typing, spectacularly cuttingly for a person who is multitasking.

Wonwoo’s Kakao notification is jarringly cheery. He shows Soonyoung his screen:

**[ ** **🦖♡** ** ]**

**[ Chan ] **is he coming with us?

**[ Wonwoo ] **He’s being stubborn. 

**[ Chan ] **tell him i’m not mad at him

Soonyoung’s eyes prick with the sudden threat of tears. He blinks it away and tries to understand how he has been forgiven so easily. It would be easier if he wasn’t. 

“I’ll pass,” Soonyoung says again, digging his heels in. He wants to fight. He wants to hide away and not be seen.

Wonwoo rarely loses his patience but Soonyoung is winding him up with a precision that comes with experience. He feels the thread fray in the face of his obstinance and it is bitterly gratifying to see Wonwoo’s jaw clench, to have that focus trained on him. 

“So what’s the strategy here? Stop talking to Chan entirely and work yourself to death before our comeback?” He says, irritation coloring his words. “Sounds like a solid plan.”

Wonwoo’s phone chimes again and Soonyoung is over it. He sees Wonwoo wearing the matching slippers Chan got for him and the way he picks his phone up immediately to look at the screen, his rising annoyance at Soonyoung snuffed out — just like that. 

“Has it ever occurred to you that I could just be sick of being the third wheel in your relationship?” Soonyoung spits, drawing a poisonous satisfaction from the way Wonwoo’s gaze snaps back up at him. It is a hollow victory and the venom makes Soonyoung sick, too, and he turns his back on Wonwoo and wills his hands not to shake. “Just leave me out of your stupid outings from now on.”

There, Soonyoung thinks. He’s finally ruined it for good now. 

“I’m sorry we’ve been making you feel this way,” Wonwoo says quietly, before the silence between them yawns too wide. “But you should still take a break.” 

Soonyoung picks up the marker and scrawls an arrow that cuts into one of the formations on the board. His vision blurs and he ignores it to lay out the foundation of the next transition. 

“You’re important to us, Soonyoung,” Wonwoo says before he goes. “So take care of yourself.” 

\---

Chan rouses when the apartment door opens. The living room is dark and the rest of the apartment has fallen into a peaceful hush. The hour is undoubtedly late but they’ve all been keeping odd hours in the name of work lately anyway; it's easy to shake the sleep off. Soonyoung shuts the door behind him and toes off his trainers at the entryway, silent as a ghost.

“Hey,” Chan says, his voice scratchy with sleep as he stretches out the crick in his neck from sleeping on the couch.

Soonyoung’s bowed head lifts. He looks surprised but he comes anyway when Chan beckons, still sweaty from the walk home, the downturned shape of his lips a rough-hewn shadow in the cloying darkness. Chan makes space for him on the couch and he sinks into it like a sigh.

Chan puts his head in Soonyoung’s lap.

“Were you waiting up for me?” Soonyoung asks.

Chan closes his eyes and nods as Soonyoung starts to run his fingers through his hair.

He knows Soonyoung likes the new color on him because he says it every chance he gets. He knows Soonyoung spoils him. He knows Soonyoung goes out of his way to make him feel important and he knows Soonyoung tries his hardest not to take his anger out on the dongsaengs because they can’t really retaliate and it’s not fair when they can’t fight back. He plays with the hair on the nape of Chan’s neck all the time, his eyes soft with fondness, radiating love in the only way Soonyoung manages, proof enough that he cares for Chan in every possible way that matters.

Chan _ knows _ Soonyoung, and Soonyoung has learnt all there is to know about Chan in turn, which is why when Soonyoung loses his grip on his temper, he finds Chan’s insecurities with unerring instinct. 

Perhaps his fixation with tigers has some weight to it; Chan will walk around with his jugular bared to the threat of Soonyoung’s teeth anyway. That Soonyoung loves him is an undeniable fact, so Chan will heal from the hurt and continue to love him back.

“You’re important to me, hyung,” Chan says suddenly, using Wonwoo’s words, simply because he cannot put all that he feels into words of his own. He opens his eyes and picks at a stray thread on Soonyoung’s joggers.

Soonyoung huffs. “I take it you and Wonwoo have talked.”

“We did,” Chan says, turning around and studying the moue of unhappiness on Soonyoung’s face. “He ranted through most of dinner. I’ve never seen him talk so much during a meal.” 

“I guess I deserve that,” Soonyoung sighs. He brushes the hair away from Chan’s eyes. “I blew up at him earlier. I promise he’s going to be my next stop on the apology tour.”

“He’s just worried,” Chan says easily. “Who’s your first stop on the tour? Seungkwannie? He’s super easy — just buy him an ice cream.” 

Soonyoung gives him an odd look. “It’s you,” he says, frowning. Chan winces and tries to get up and Soonyoung pushes him back down with clumsy hands. “No, don’t — Chan-ah, I’m sorry for what I said during practice, I really am.” 

“No, it’s okay —” Chan says before Soonyoung completes his sentence, waving the apology away with a sheepish hand. Soonyoung catches it and holds it still, impatient in his determination to make things right, and Chan settles, shoulders tense, and lets him finish.

“It’s — it’s just been a lot, you know? Not that it’s an excuse for being an asshole because that’s how I’ve been acting, I just, you know —" Soonyoung babbles in fits and starts, and Chan watches him flounder, grasping for the correct words to say because it matters that Chan understands him completely. And Chan does, only Soonyoung seems single-minded in his attempt to grovel so he just waits for Soonyoung to run out of words to say.

Soonyoung laces their fingers together and holds on tight.

“You’re important to me too,” Soonyoung says soberly. “The both of you. I’ve said a lot of awful things lately and I’m sorry for all of it.” 

Chan curls into the comfort of Soonyoung’s words and presses his face briefly against Soonyoung’s belly, thinking.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel out of place,” Chan says, halting and careful. Soonyoung makes a dismissive noise in his throat and gathers Chan closer. “The two of you — you’re my favourite people in the world — and I just thought it’d be nice if we hung out a lot together.” 

“I get it,” Soonyoung murmurs. “I’d have you guys around all the time if I had my way.” 

Chan breathes in slowly and holds his breath before he speaks. “I didn’t stop to consider how it would make you feel, so I’m sorry for that.” 

Soonyoung heaves a big sigh and tips his head back onto the couch. Chan lifts his head and peers at him. “I really fucked things up, huh,” he says to the ceiling. “Believe me, I was just lashing out. Please don’t uninvite me from your stupid outings. I like you guys and I like how stupid your outings are.” 

A helpless giggle bubbles of out Chan. “Of course not, hyung, you’re the one who makes our outings stupid.”

“You punkass bitch,” Soonyoung says, the words softened by a grin. He jiggles his legs and Chan wobbles along with the motion. “Am I allowed to take a shower now?” 

Chan rights himself and marvels at the way his soul feels lighter. “Go ahead, hyung.” 

Soonyoung presses a kiss to Chan’s forehead.

“Thank you for waiting up,” he says, cupping the back of Chan’s neck, and Chan feels his heart grow fonder at the way Soonyoung’s thumb worries at the skin behind his ear. “And for tolerating your useless hyung. Now go to sleep. It’s late.” 

“Anytime,” Chan says softly as Soonyoung retrieves his duffle and shuffles off to the bathroom. “Good night.”

“Night, Channie.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, i'm [@bojios](https://twitter.com/bojios) on twitter if anybody wants to talk about soonwoochan with me. i need to further the charem (chan harem) agenda


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Concert preparations are under way.

Soonyoung’s apology tour is a short one, though no less draining than bouncing across the globe for months on end. 

He suspects Chan has had a word with Seungkwan beforehand because Seungkwan sticks a demanding hand out for the Dwaeji Bar that Soonyoung’s bought at the convenience store just minutes before. His glower’s the softest Soonyoung’s seen in two days, however, so Soonyoung hands over the goods without comment.

There is a brief silence as Seungkwan tears into the packaging with his teeth. Soonyoung gathers it’s about making him sweat, about making him earn that forgiveness, but — 

“You look kind of dumb when you’re trying to be mad at me while eating ice cream,” Soonyoung points out.

“The fucking nerve—!!” Seungkwan cries, though it lacks any heat at all. Could be all that ice cream in his mouth. 

“I’ll buy you ice cream for the rest of the week,” Soonyoung offers as Seungkwan viciously bites a large chunk out of the bar. He really does have an impressive bitchface. “Call it dickhead tax, if you will.” 

Seungkwan narrows his eyes and finishes up his bribe. 

“Fine,” he says eventually. Soonyoung perks up and tosses a free pack of gum at him as a bonus for agreeing to the deal and Seungkwan fails to catch it, or rather, he makes no attempt to do so. It falls to the floor and neither of them move to pick it up.

Soonyoung sighs. 

“You know Chan better than I do,” Seungkwan says, chewing on the end of the popsicle stick. The wood splits neatly along the grain between his teeth. “You have to know how much your opinion means to him.” 

Soonyoung knows. He bends and retrieves the packet of gum, a show of acquiesce at Seungkwan’s feet.

“Yeah, I knew I fucked up the second I said it,” Soonyoung admits. He holds up the gum again. “But I’m trying to make things right, okay? I lo — I care about him as much as you do.” 

Seungkwan snorts and snatches the entire plastic bag full of snacks out of Soonyoung’s hand instead, daring him to protest. An ice cream wrapper replaces it and Soonyoung squawks with indignation.

“Hey, who’s the hyung here?!” 

Seungkwan’s bares all his teeth at Soonyoung when he smiles. “Well, get on with it then, _ hyung.” _

\---

As expected, Soonyoung takes Wonwoo out for Italian with a heaping side of groveling after practice. Wonwoo peers over the menu at Soonyoung, who fidgets in his seat.

“I’ll have the lobster,” Wonwoo says.

“You don't even eat seafood!” Soonyoung protests. 

Wonwoo opens the menu again. “Make that two lobsters and an aglio olio, thanks.” 

Soonyoung huffs and calls the waiter over, and Wonwoo sits back with a grin. 

“Look,” Soonyoung says seriously when the waiter leaves with their order. Wonwoo quashes the urge to laugh at how resigned and well-worn Soonyoung’s chagrin has become over the span of two days. “I just want to say —“

“I think the lobster says enough,” Wonwoo says, showing mercy at the last second. It wasn’t even like he was angry at Soonyoung — even Wonwoo doesn’t know what he feels exactly. Worry, mostly? Uneasiness, maybe? Whatever it is, the feeling eases when he sees Soonyoung slump in relief. “It’s been a rough couple of days for all of us.” 

Soonyoung toys with the fork by his elbow and doesn’t meet Wonwoo’s eyes. “I didn’t really mean what I said about being a third wheel. I think I’d hate it more if I wasn’t included.” 

“Yes,” Wonwoo agrees. “You’d probably die if you didn’t have a Channie to manhandle every couple of minutes.”

Soonyoung’s laughter is a nervous one. Wonwoo cocks his head at it and waits; the gears in Soonyoung’s head turn and a napkin is shredded as fuel.

“Why doesn’t it bother you?” Soonyoung asks finally.

“You’ll have to be a little more specific than that.” 

Soonyoung winces. “You said it yourself: I play with Chan a lot. Doesn’t it bother you when — I don’t know — when we get all cuddly or something?” 

Wonwoo doesn’t have to search very hard for his answer.

“No,” he says.

Soonyoung makes a disbelieving noise in his throat. “Why not?” 

“The two of you have been like this from the start,” Wonwoo says slowly, sorting through his own thoughts as he goes. “It’d be weirder if I suddenly took offence to it. Kind of a dick move, too.” 

“Yeah, but things are different between you and Channie now, aren’t they?” Soonyoung argues hotly. “Don’t you get worried?” 

“Should I be worried?” Wonwoo asks, perhaps a little too shrewdly. Soonyoung’s complexion goes a little blotchy and Wonwoo files that information away for later. “Chan is his own person and you’ve always been his favorite hyung. I’d hate to be the reason for your bond to be diminished in any way.”

Soonyoung falls silent.

“He doesn’t need my permission,” Wonwoo says. “Neither do you.”

They stare at each other, and Wonwoo has the distinct feeling that they’re skirting the edges of something important. Something Chan-shaped and complicated. It feels momentous, somehow. 

The food arrives and Soonyoung startles. He gathers the napkin bits strewn about the table in his cupped hands and crushes them into a neat little ball. 

Wonwoo kicks his shin under the table. “Stop overtaxing your brain. I don’t think it’s built to handle this much work.” 

Soonyoung scowls immediately and Wonwoo knows he’s done a good job. He watches as Soonyoung shakes the guilt off and goes for one of the lobsters between them. Wonwoo slaps his hand away with practiced deftness and a considerable amount of glee.

“Hey, I paid for this!” 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo grins and doesn’t even touch the dish himself. “And now it’s mine to not eat.”

\---

“What’s this?” Chan asks when Wonwoo plonks a buttery-smelling plastic bag down in front of him. He comes out of a hamstring stretch and ends up lying on the floor, looking up at them. 

“Lobster,” Wonwoo says, looking amused, though Chan has no idea why.

“All of a sudden?” 

Soonyoung sighs. 

“Just eat it, Channie.” 

\---

They hurtle through promotions for HIT together, and just like the song leaves them, they end the week winded. 

Chan steps gingerly off the stage after their final music show recording, dripping sweat and hurting. The stitch in his side is nothing more than a minor inconvenience but the cameras caught the mistakes he made while he held a hand against the sudden flare of pain during their performance, and _ that _stings more than the sharp pull in his ribs.

“Did you get hurt?” Wonwoo rasps, coming to stand beside Chan at the monitors. His sore throat sounds worse than it did in the morning.

Chan shifts his weight and presses his shoulder against Wonwoo’s arm. “I’m okay,” he says, suddenly feeling exhausted. “It’s just a stitch.”

They stand there, under the watchful eyes of cameras and fans and catch their breaths. Soonyoung joins them a minute later. 

“Chan-ah, you okay?” 

“Stitch,” Wonwoo replies on his behalf, still squinting at the monitor.

Chan takes the half-empty bottle Soonyoung offers him gratefully. His makeup probably needs touching up. 

Soonyoung slings an arm over Chan. “We’re going drinking tonight. All of us. I think we deserve it.” 

Wonwoo’s lips turn up slightly. “You buying?”

Chan twists under Soonyoung’s arm to look up at him, hopeful.

Soonyoung caves. “Only the first round. I’m not made of money, alright?” 

And so drink they do, piling into their favorite lamb skewers place half an hour after it’s supposed to close, much to the eternal chagrin of the old lady who runs the joint.

“I’ve told you boys a million times,” she grumbles as she serves them far too much banchan and pinches Seungkwan’s cheek. “We close at 3am!”

“Sorry halmoni,” Chan says, grinning, and gets a cheek pinch for his troubles too. 

“You’re awful boys,” she tells them as she sets a massive plate of kimchi in front of Soonyoung. “So skinny lately too. Eat your food quickly or I’ll turn the lights off on you.”

Chan has more soju than is wise, probably. He splits the last bottle with Jun and Soonyoung, who is well into the territory of tipsy. Chan runs a sticky finger across the condensation on the bottle and watches him throw back his last shot, his sweaty throat working.

Wonwoo’s hoarse laughter rings out at the far end of the table.

The car ride home is a blur of neon lights and quiet conversations and Chan lies on the floor when they get home, unwilling to join in the fight for bathroom rights just yet. The world tilts on its axis when he closes his eyes. Soonyoung flops down beside him, inelegant in his inebriation, red-cheeked and droopy-eyed.

Chan turns to face him. The summer heat lingers in the apartment. Chan shifts, trying to get comfortable, and Soonyoung runs a soothing hand down his side until he settles. Chan can feel the rise and fall of Soonyoung’s chest against his own.

“You’ve worked hard, hyung,” he tells Soonyoung, studying the softness of his features in the dark.

Soonyoung stares back openly, his lips parted. 

“So have you, Channie,” he says, and it comes a beat too late, a breathless afterthought. 

The moment stretches into infinity and the world shrinks until only Chan and Soonyoung are left. Soonyoung’s fingers are five points of pressure on Chan’s hip and Chan -- Chan _ wants. _ He chases a bead of sweat down Soonyoung’s throat with his finger and feels the catch of his breath under it.

Chan leans in.

Soonyoung makes a quiet noise as their noses brush.

“I think,” Soonyoung murmurs softly, his eyes closed. He touches his forehead to Chan’s with a sigh. “I think I’ve had too much to drink.”

He carefully removes his hand from Chan’s hip and sits up.

Chan’s heart lurches as reality comes rushing back.

“I’m going to bed now,” Soonyoung says, looking lost. “Good night.” 

\--- 

**[ **🦊 **♡** **]**

**[ Chan ] **i have something to confess.

\---

“Okay,” Wonwoo says.

“Okay?” Chan repeats, a little wild in the eyes. “That’s all you have to say? I almost kissed him!”

Wonwoo reaches for Chan, who twitches with manic energy in his grasp. They’re huddled in the laundry room while the others sleep off their hangovers, the washing machine drowning out most of Chan’s existential crisis as it rumbles its way through a spin cycle. Wonwoo would like to be back in bed himself, if he’s being honest.

Wonwoo cups Chan’s face between his hands. “Have you slept at all?”

“I couldn’t,” Chan says, looking like he’s about to be sick.

Wonwoo thumbs at the delicate skin under Chan’s eyes and believes him. He presses a kiss to Chan’s forehead. He smells like laundry detergent and soju. 

“Talk to me.”

“I wanted it,” Chan admits on a shaky breath. “I think I still do.” 

Wonwoo takes a moment to collect his thoughts. They languish in a jumble in his head, still a little alcohol-soaked and not quite fully-formed in the weak morning light, but Wonwoo feels like they’ve been building towards this for a while. Haphazardly and frustratingly, as all things that concern Soonyoung do, but somehow always worth the trouble in the end. 

Wonwoo thinks he finally understands his role in all of this.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Wonwoo tells Chan, whose fingers spasm in Wonwoo’s sleep shirt.

“I’ll stay out of your way,” Chan blurts. He’s looking at the floor. “We have concert prep after this so you won’t have to pretend to like me for the cameras for at least a week. I’ll — I’ll figure something out for the concert itself —”

“Chan —”

He barrels on stubbornly. “— but I think the fans won’t notice anyway. And if you want, I’ll stop talking to Soonyoung too. Fuck, Wonwoo, I’m sorry. I’ll do anything, anything you want —”

Wonwoo huffs and shuts Chan up with a kiss.

“Don’t,” Chan lies, clinging tight.

Wonwoo kisses him hard enough to bruise. He holds Chan’s face between patient hands and kisses him silent when he tries to talk again, marvelling at how much he loves such a stupid, stupid boy when Chan opens up with a broken sigh.

The realization is startling. He _ loves _ Chan. Everything falls neatly into place once he arranges it all around this one undeniable truth.

“Stop trying to break up with me,” Wonwoo says when they part. He presses indulgent lips to Chan’s eyelids, tasting salt on his short lashes. “You’re interrupting my revelation over here.”

Chan’s voice is thick when he speaks. “What?” 

Wonwoo crowds Chan against the washing machine with a hand on his chest. 

“I’m still a little drunk so it’s more like a half-formed plan right now, to be honest,” Wonwoo says as Chan accidentally sets the machine off anew with a careless elbow. He goes to his knees in the cramped space of their laundry room, buoyed by clarity and conviction. He doesn’t have much time; the others will wake soon. Chan’s eyes are wide and wet and Wonwoo has never been more in love.

“But if I’m right —” He tugs Chan’s pajama pants down his hips. “Which I always am —” Chan exhales like the breath has been punched out of him. “You’ll get to kiss Kwon Soonyoung all you want later.”

“Hyung, what —” Chan gasps as Wonwoo works his cock to hardness. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m saying I’m open to sharing,” Wonwoo says as Chan doubles over and grips his shoulder. “Now can I suck your dick before the others wake up?”

“Please,” Chan whispers, stunned into obedience. 

Wonwoo runs a thumb up the underside of Chan’s cock and catches a drip of fluid with it. Chan lets out a whine when Wonwoo tastes it.

“Say it again,” Wonwoo says, wanting to be wanted too.

“Please, hyung,” Chan begs, and Wonwoo cannot tell if Chan is trembling or if the machine behind him has lent him the shake to his voice. He finds secret reassurance in the grip of Chan’s hands. 

Wonwoo palms Chan cock one last time before he takes him in his mouth.

He swallows later, simply because it’d be a bigger pain not to, and Chan tugs him to his feet when he’s done, shaky with gratitude and relief.

Now for everything else to fall into place. 

\---

“So here’s the plan,” Wonwoo murmurs, drenched in sunlight and warmth, wedged between the glass sliding doors in the living room and a drowsing Chan. 

“I’m listening,” Chan says, a borrowed sloth plushie tucked under his chin. He yawns into Wonwoo’s chest. 

The rest of the apartment begins to stir.

\---

They go from practice room to run-down badminton hall to a vast and empty KSPO Dome in the span of a week. Soonyoung throws himself headlong into the mad dash that is concert prep, preferring the certainty of work over whatever it was that happened with Chan. A glitch, probably — a fine example of the dangers of mind-altering substances. Certainly nothing to worry about in the grand scheme of things.

In fact, he’s not even sure it happened; Chan hasn’t been acting like he tried to kiss Soonyoung a week ago, anyway. The memory of him, drink-warm and beautiful and wanting Soonyoung back could very well have been a fever dream. 

It’d make more sense if it was. 

Soonyoung watches Chan go through the steps of ‘Just Do It’ with Jeonghan from the wings and tries his best to forget.

\---

“Oh, this is perfect,” Chan says as Wonwoo flicks the lights on. He checks his teeth in the mirror and hops onto a counter, swinging his legs idly. “The makeup artists don’t show up until next week.” 

Wonwoo grins. “The door locks too.”

Chan’s smile widens. The walls vibrate with the bass from the speakers. “How long do we have until we’re needed back onstage again?” 

\---

**[ Channie ** ♥ ** ]**

**[ Chan ] **hyung 

**[ Chan ] **need your help backstage

**[ Soonyoung ] **? whats up

**[ Chan ] **waiting room 2

\---

Soonyoung pockets his phone and hurries backstage. The narrow hallway is empty; most of the crew has headed out for lunch and so has the rest of their group. Soonyoung himself was about to leave.

“Channie?” he calls out, poking his head into the room he’s been summoned to. “Are you okay?” 

“Hm?” Chan is perched on a countertop with his phone, looking perfectly fine. He smiles when he sees Soonyoung, and that alone is enough to draw him the rest of the way into the room. “That was fast.”

“You said you needed help!” Soonyoung says a little too defensively. His voice echoes in the empty room and he wants to recoil from it. 

“I do,” Chan says evenly, leaning back against the mirror. He puts his phone down and Soonyoung’s skin prickles with anticipation. Soonyoung might be slow to catch on sometimes but he knows a trap when he sees one.

“Come here, hyung.” 

Soonyoung walks forward anyway, one wary foot in front of the other until he reaches Chan.

“What’s this about?” Soonyoung asks, throat dry, as if he doesn’t already know. Chan’s thighs spread to accommodate Soonyoung’s hips where he stands between them and his eyes are dark and open, trained on Soonyoung and Soonyoung alone. Their matching joggers from New York barely brush together. Soonyoung is careful not to press closer.

But he wants to. _ God, _how he wants to. 

The door opens behind him and Soonyoung startles horribly. Chan locks his ankles behind Soonyoung’s back and holds him in place. 

“Thought I told you not to get started without me,” Wonwoo quips as he lets himself into the room. 

Soonyoung squeaks and tries to squirm out of the terrifyingly strong grip of Chan’s thighs. 

“Sorry,” Chan grins and tugs Soonyoung closer, till their hips are flush against each other. “He got here a little sooner than I expected.” 

Soonyoung feels like his head might explode. “Guys?!” 

“Hi,” Wonwoo says as he locks the door behind him, placid as ever. He sets two cans of orange juice down beside them and Chan giggles under Soonyoung.  
  
“Can somebody please explain what is happening right now?” Soonyoung pleads. “I really don’t think it’s a very unreasonable request under these circumstances.”

Chan takes pity on him and relaxes his hold, though it just means that the beginnings of Soonyoung’s fear boner isn’t pressed up against him quite as snugly.

“Wonwoo has a theory,” he says, licking his lips, and Soonyoung’s eyes are inexorably drawn to the pink of his tongue. “And I’m testing it.”

“I think you want Chan,” Wonwoo chimes in, standing much closer than before. 

Soonyoung jerks in Chan’s grip like he’s been dealt a physical blow and Wonwoo steadies him with a firm hand on his shoulder. Soonyoung catches a glimpse of his own expression in the mirror behind Chan and sees his own panic reflected back at him: a tiger, ensnared. “I- I don’t —”

“It’s okay, hyung,” Chan says softly, and Soonyoung’s frantic pulse slows a beat just for him. Chan would never hurt him on purpose. “I want you too.”

Oh.

Soonyoung feels slow and stupid. “But you’re with Wonwoo.”

“Pretty sure he can multitask,” Wonwoo says, his voice rumbling lowly in the way it always does. Heat ricochets up Soonyoung’s spine and sets every nerve ending alight.

Hope is a wonderful and terrible thing and it sits awkwardly in Soonyoung’s cupped hands.

“What are you suggesting?” He asks, seeking confirmation, not trusting the grip of Chan’s thighs and Wonwoo’s steadfast certainty.

“That you join us?”

Despite his confidence before, Chan’s reply lilts upward and turns a statement into a question at the last second. He untangles his legs and frees Soonyoung entirely to sit, straight-backed and earnest, at eye level. Soonyoung rocks back on his heels for a second, unmoored.

“It’s - it’s weird, you know?” Chan starts, shaking his fringe out of his eyes, a nervous tic that speaks louder than his elaborate plan to trap Soonyoung in an empty room with them.

Soonyoung is calmed by the sight of it. He becomes loud when Chan loses his nerve; hyung instincts kick in before he can think too hard about it and Soonyoung nudges the inside of Chan’s knee with his hip and urges him forward. Wonwoo hums softly behind him with something that sounds like approval. 

They’re the same people he’s always known.

“Like — it’s kind of like one of those illusion things where you tilt your head and squint a little and a duck becomes a bunny,” Chan continues, and Soonyoung tilts his head, too, trying to see.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s always been there, and I - I think I see it now,” Chan says. He takes Soonyoung’s hand and runs his thumb across the matching ring on his pinky, a private smile gracing his lips. “I’ve liked you since we were kids. That’s all I wanted to say.”

Soonyoung’s palms are sweating.

“Chan-ah.” 

He touches Chan’s face and he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“You’re okay with this?” He asks Wonwoo, who is leaning on the edge of the counter, watching them.

“Like I said, Chan doesn’t need my permission,” Wonwoo replies.

Soonyoung admires him; Wonwoo makes things sound simple when they really aren’t. He trusts in dark eyes and the long fingers that join Soonyoung’s to cup Chan’s face for a brief moment. Chan turns his head and kisses Wonwoo’s palm. Spoiled and loved is a good look on him.

Wonwoo’s smile is a small, helpless thing. “But he has my blessing.”

“See?” Chan says, grinning. “It all works out.”

Soonyoung steps closer.

“That simple, huh?”

“Yeah,” Chan says, welcoming him. “Easy.” 

And it really is. Kissing Chan is familiar and wonderful, his body remembering the steps to a well-loved song. Chan smiles into the kiss and it makes Soonyoung smile, too, giddy with joy and lingering disbelief. He presses close into the cage of Chan’s thighs and his heart thrills at the way Chan yields and opens up for him.

_ “Wow,” _ Soonyoung breathes when they part. Chan is flushed pink and pleased under him and it does terrible things to his heart and dick.

“Your turn,” Chan tells Wonwoo breathlessly, and Soonyoung watches them come together with a ferocity that flattens Chan against the mirror. It rattles dangerously in its frame and Soonyoung feels the same way as he braces his hand on Chan’s hip, paralyzed. 

Wonwoo kisses like he’s staking a claim, demanding and thorough, like he’s reminding Chan that he exists too, the dormant competitive streak that Soonyoung always seems to bring out in him flaring white hot. 

“Fuck,” Chan gasps as he tightens his grip on Soonyoung’s bicep. 

Wonwoo sucks a sharp kiss onto the skin just beneath Chan’s ear before he lets him go. 

“What the hell, Jeon Wonwoo,” Soonyoung whispers, a little bit in awe.

Wonwoo smirks. “Take his shirt off.”

Soonyoung obeys enthusiastically. Chan’s hair is a wild mess when he’s done and Wonwoo takes the opportunity to grip a handful of it, just firmly enough for Chan’s eyelids to flutter shut for a moment. Chan’s throat is bared to him and Soonyoung recognizes it for what it is: an offering.

Chan’s blush goes all the way down to his chest.

“Cute,” Soonyoung murmurs to himself before he puts his mouth on Chan’s neck, tasting the salt borne from hard work during rehearsals. He’s all broad shoulders and lean muscle these days, arched prettily under Soonyoung, his lower lip caught between his teeth. He keens softly when Soonyoung laves a curious tongue over a nipple, and Soonyoung wants to hear it again.

“God, Soonyoung —” Chan hisses when Soonyoung starts charting his way across the expanse of his chest. He doesn’t know how Wonwoo resists the urge to mark him, increasingly revealing stage outfits be damned; Soonyoung bites down on a collarbone and Chan’s hips jerk hard enough that the counter creaks. 

“Much as I’d like to see you fuck Channie against the mirror,” Wonwoo pipes up, sounding like he’s commenting on the weather instead of watching Soonyoung attempt to lick every inch of Chan’s exposed skin. “Might I suggest moving to the couch before we break something?”

Soonyoung steps back and away from Chan and glances around for said couch, dazed. He doesn’t know how he missed it entirely when he first came in but there it is — a battered old sofa in the corner of the room, just about large enough for someone like Soonyong to stretch out on.

Chan laughs behind him and Soonyoung turns to find him clinging to Wonwoo as he walks them both across the room and deposits Chan onto the couch with careful hands. He watches Wonwoo press Chan into the soft leather seats and kiss him, joyful and fervent, every line of his body radiating love, and feels, suddenly, like he is intruding on something that isn’t his. 

“Hyung?” Chan calls when Wonwoo finally lets up. Soonyoung starts and hurries over, suddenly awkward now that he’s allowed doubt to creep in. He pauses. Chan and Wonwoo are sprawled across the length of the couch as it is. He doesn’t know how he’ll fit. 

“Come here,” Wonwoo says, taking Soonyoung by the wrist and pulling him down. Chan slides to the floor and takes his place between Soonyoung’s knees and the transition is so seamless that Soonyoung wants to swear that it’s been rehearsed in some way. But Chan rubs his face against the front of Soonyoung’s pants and every coherent line of thought dies a swift death at the sight of Chan, his pupils blown wide open, rubbing up against Soonyoung’s dick like a cat, like he’s hungry for it. Putting on a show just like Soonyoung’s taught him.

Wonwoo cups Soonyoung around the back of his head and drags him into a kiss.

It’s different from kissing Chan. He doesn’t allow Soonyoung the chance to set the tempo or melt into him like Chan did — Wonwoo takes full control and kisses him hard and slow and _ claiming, _ and Soonyoung lets Wonwoo hold him down and tilt his head any way he wants as long as he continues doing what he’s doing. 

“Oh, god I — holy_ fuck, _guys,” Soonyoung gasps when Chan shoves Soonyoung’s pants down his hips and licks a hot, wet stripe up his cock. Wonwoo laughs into the kiss and swallows the strangled cry that escapes when Chan takes Soonyoung into his mouth as deep as it’ll go. 

Soonyoung is pinned between them and powerless. He can barely breathe and Chan is making quiet, pleased noises around his cock. He doesn’t know whose hand it is that’s under his shirt. Soonyoung is drowning and Wonwoo is holding him under the currents, stealing the oxygen from his lungs.

“Soonyoung-ah,” Wonwoo says, faraway and deep under Soonyoung’s skin at the same time. “Open your eyes.”

Soonyoung doesn’t realize he’s closed them.

“Look at him,” Wonwoo says, a guiding hand under Soonyoung’s chin, and Soonyoung doesn’t know how he managed to stop looking in the first place. Chan’s expressive, smart mouth is stretched wide around Soonyoung’s cock and it’s so, so much to take in all at once. Soonyoung traces a disbelieving thumb across the plane of Chan’s cheekbone and starts to come undone.

“Chan, I’m gonna —” Soonyoung gasps, trying to warn him. Wonwoo sinks his teeth into Soonyoung’s shoulder and the pain sparks a sharp-edged pleasure that has Soonyoung writhing._ “Chan _ — _ ” _

Chan’s eyes flicker shut, his brows furrowed in concentration in a way that is so quintessentially him, and Soonyoung, engulfed in blistering heat and adoration, tumbles over the edge into their waiting arms.

Distantly, he hears Chan choke a little. Reality returns to Soonyoung in fragments. Wonwoo noses at Soonyoung’s ear until he regains feeling in his limbs and sits back up. Chan is still on his knees and staring up at him with pitch dark eyes, his mouth slick and red, come dripping from his chin, and Soonyoung knows for a fact that he’s not going to survive this.

Wonwoo swipes at a streak of white on Chan’s face and feeds his fingers to him. 

Soonyoung is going to fucking die. 

“Okay?” Wonwoo asks Chan softly.

Chan pulls off Wonwoo’s fingers with a wet pop.

“Yes, hyung,” he says, voice wrecked and sweet, and the sound of it sends another jolt of arousal through Soonyoung.

“Let him take care of you,” Wonwoo tells him, and Soonyoung barely has the time to interpret that before he has a lapful of Chan. Their next kiss is messy and open-mouthed and filthy; Soonyoung tastes himself on Chan’s skin and on the flat of his tongue. Chan moans and shudders against Soonyoung as Wonwoo slips a hand down the back of his joggers and Soonyoung feels the hardness of Chan’s erection against his thigh as he grinds down desperately.

“Off,” Chan whines, tugging at the hem of Soonyoung’s shirt. Soonyoung lifts his arms and lets Chan do as he wants. “Both of you.”

Shedding their remaining clothes is awkward business. They untangle momentarily to expedite the process and Soonyoung would laugh but Chan is reclaiming his spot on top of Soonyoung again, his cock hard and ready for him, and Soonyoung tugs him close and kisses him again just to feel the wet glide of Chan’s arousal trapped between their bodies.

Wonwoo returns at a more leisurely pace. Soonyoung’s situational awareness is shot but he hears a faint click of a plastic cap and Chan is jerking in his arms and moaning shortly after that, pushing his hips back at Wonwoo with a strangled cry.

“Hyung, don’t tease,” Chan complains as Soonyoung watches his lips part and brows knit up close. He wraps an arm around Chan’s shoulders to hold him steady and feels the muscles there bunch and release. “You know I still have to dance later.”

“I know,” Wonwoo says, his voice threaded through with frustration as he speaks between kisses to the back of Chan’s neck. 

Soonyoung hazards touching the shell of Wonwoo’s ear as he ventures close. Wonwoo closes his eyes at the gesture and falters. Soonyoung’s chest feels tight. 

“Next time we’re in a hotel room together,” Chan promises, twisting in Soonyoung’s arms to pull Wonwoo down into a kiss, soft and placating. “Both of you can fuck me.”

Heat flares in Soonyoung’s gut at the mere idea of it. “Chan-ah,” he groans shakily, and Wonwoo echoes it, his forehead pressed against Chan’s.

“Fair enough,” Wonwoo says finally, voice tight, gripping Chan’s hips and lifting him off Soonyoung with renewed purpose. Chan cheerfully goes limp and allows himself to be arranged as Wonwoo sees fit, and he ends up on his back with his head cushioned on Soonyoung’s thigh, spread across the couch with his legs parted to accommodate Wonwoo’s narrow hips between them, entirely at their combined mercies. 

Soonyoung’s throat goes dry at the sight. “What are you planning?”

Chan grunts softly as Wonwoo pulls his legs together, both his calves now supported by Wonwoo’s right shoulder, so recently broadened by hours at the gym. 

“Hold them together for me, please,” Wonwoo tells Chan, brushing his lips against the bony rise of Chan’s ankle as he slicks himself with lube. 

“Oh,” Soonyoung says to no one in particular. The lines around Wonwoo’s eyes are tight. Soonyoung’s heart pounds in his chest with anticipation. 

Chan groans as Wonwoo pushes his cock between his joined thighs. The muscles in his abdomen jump at the sensation and Soonyoung chases the ripple of movement with his palm, transfixed, tracing meandering lines through the precome pooling on the flat of his belly. 

Wonwoo presses closer still, a broken noise trapped behind bared teeth as he establishes a ruthless pace from the start. 

Chan’s head lolls in Soonyoung’s lap as they make a bigger mess of him and Soonyoung takes the fractured whine that falls from Chan’s slack mouth into his own.

“Touch him,” Wonwoo says, and it is a command, a sharp crack in the air hanging heavy in the spaces between their bodies. Wonwoo’s hips snap forward hard enough to drive Chan further up against Soonyoung, and he takes hold of Chan’s cock and does as he is told, working him in time with Wonwoo’s strokes.

“Hyung —” Chan cries out, strung tight and held in place between the both of them, as finely-tuned as any instrument and twice as precious. Soonyoung holds every plea that they force from his mouth in tandem close to his heart, savoring a melody that is inextricably entwined and careening out of control as one. 

“You look so good,” Soonyoung tells them. “The both of you. You’re amazing.” 

Chan shudders and tosses his head and comes, his voice cracking, shaking through his release as Soonyoung holds him close.

He holds his thighs together for Wonwoo perfectly through it all, trembling with effort as Wonwoo follows him over the edge, completely silent save for the quiet gasp he muffles against Chan’s skin when he finishes. 

They hold each other with bruising force after, taking heaving breaths in unison. Chan is a wreck between them. Wonwoo’s shoulders quake from the strain and he lets Chan’s legs down as gently as he can before he leans down to kiss him, unheeding of the mess pooling on Chan’s belly and slicking the insides of his thighs. 

Soonyoung gathers them both into his arms and kisses the first patch of sweaty skin he sees. It turns out to be Wonwoo’s faintly stubbly jaw and Chan laughs breathlessly and noses at him too, soothing Soonyoung’s hammering pulse with careless sweetness. 

Quiet descends over them like a warm blanket as they navigate three sets of limbs and entangle themselves once more, finding new ways to fit together.

Chan’s head is nestled in the crook of Soonyoung’s arm when he speaks up.

“I don’t think wet wipes are going to do the trick here,” he mumbles, voice a little strained because Wonwoo is wrapped around him, all long legs and dark eyes cracked opened to a fine slit, blinking slowly as he flirts with the idea of a short nap. 

“There’s a sink in the corner,” Wonwoo says, though he makes no move to free either Chan or Soonyoung. “It’s why I picked this room.”

“That’s our Jeon Wonwoo,” Soonyoung praises. “Man with a plan.” 

“No rush, though,” Chan says. “I kind of like the mess.”

Soonyoung buries his face in Chan’s neck and groans. “Fuck, Channie, you can’t just say shit like that.”

“Well, for now, I guess,” Chan continues just as blithely, shifting around and jostling their careful arrangement, frowning slightly. “It’ll probably get kind of gross in a while.” 

Wonwoo sighs and draws him closer and rides out the fidgeting with a hand splayed across Chan’s shoulder blade.

“Shh,” he says as Chan settles once more. “Don’t fuss. I’ll clean you up later.” 

Soonyoung never really took him for the possessive type. Shows what he knows.

They lie in silence for a bit until the sound system comes back online for sound checks. The rest of the crew will return from lunch soon and the other members will follow shortly.

“That’s our cue,” Soonyoung says, heaving a sigh.

Chan rolls out from under Wonwoo to his feet and winces at the noise as he unsticks from the leather seats.

“Uh,” he says, looking a little sheepish. “Better save the wet wipes for the sofa. I’ll use the towel I brought for practice.”

Wonwoo coughs and hands Soonyoung said wipes. “I don’t think I’ll be able to fully look anyone who sits here in the eye from now on.”

“Oh _ god,” _ Soonyoung moans. 

Both Chan and Wonwoo turn to look at him, alarmed. 

“It’s probably going to be Jeonghan. He’s going to take a fucking nap on our jizz couch and then I’ll be forced to end our friendship forever.” 

\---

Concert day arrives much quicker than they anticipated.

The couch is defiled once more during the week before the hair and makeup team arrives to set up shop, and Soonyoung, ever terrible at keeping a secret, goes blotchy and sweaty whenever he spies anyone sitting in it.

The concert forms around them nonetheless, piece by functioning piece finding their places, the process becoming familiar even if it never gets any easier. 

And so just like that, they finally have a show to put on. 

\---

**4.34PM**

Wonwoo’s hair is a soft purple now, and Chan likes combing his fingers through it when they’re alone. 

They’re tucked in a dark corner after final rehearsals, still in baggy shirts and sweatpants, lingering in the gaps between their schedules before the stage is set and the seats around them are filled. Wonwoo’s nose scrunches when he smiles into their kiss and Chan goes on tiptoes to chase the curve of Wonwoo’s lips.

They have time.

\---

**5:13PM**

Soonyoung tastes like toothpaste after dinner, Wonwoo finds.

“At least it’s not face cleanser,” Soonyoung grumbles, trying not to wrinkle Wonwoo’s stage outfit too much as he drags him closer. “Is it my turn for hair and makeup?” 

Wonwoo hums and tastes the mint on Soonyoung’s tongue once more. “Jun’s almost done.”

Their voices echo and fill the empty bathroom with heat.

\---

**5:48PM**

Chan’s hand is warm as a cupped flame as Soonyoung leads him through an empty corridor.

“Where are you taking me?” Chan asks, laughter on his breath as Soonyoung elbows the door open and reveals a drab little room with cheap carpeting, cardboard boxes stacked high against one side of the wall. Dust motes hang in the air in the dying afternoon light.

But none of that’s important.

“Look out the window,” Soonyoung urges, pushing Chan forward. 

Carats mill about below them, unaware that they are being watched. Chan smiles when he spots someone wearing a shirt bearing his own design.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” 

“There,” Soonyoung says, pointing at the rows of banners across the way, at the rice wreath donations that fans have set up on behalf of them. “Look at how many you got.”

Chan hangs halfway out of the window to see, and Soonyoung watches as confusion gives way to relief, then joy when he starts counting, bright eyes curved into glittering half-moons in the fading orange sunlight when he turns to face Soonyoung again.

“But there’s _ so many,” _ Chan whispers, his disbelief a thorn in Soonyoung’s heart.

“I just wanted you to see,” Soonyoung tells him, his throat feeling tight for some reason. “That’s all.” 

Chan throws his arms around Soonyoung and hugs him.

“Thank you, hyung.”

\---

**6:24PM**

Wonwoo helps Chan shrug into his jacket, hands lingering longer than they should on proud shoulders.

“You look nice,” he murmurs.

Chan’s smile is soft and crooked, his gaze softened by dark eyeshadow. “So do you.” 

No one hears them. 

\---

**6:57PM**

“We’ve come a long way since third grade, haven't we?” Wonwoo says quietly, watching the arena seats fill up on the monitors before them.

Soonyoung brushes the back of their hands together and stays close. 

\---

**7:18PM**

Soonyoung stretches out his right arm, closes his eyes and breathes in deep.

The fans begin to sing and it shakes the walls around them and ignites a flame within him.

Chan is there when he opens his eyes. He holds out his hand.

“Ready?” 

\---

**7:29PM**

They link themselves, thumb to pinky in a circle of thirteen, hearts pounding in their chests.

Seventeen rallies at Soonyoung’s cry, eyes bright and smiles wide, shoulder to shoulder to shoulder to shoulder.

Soonyoung takes pride in a job well done. 

He has a good feeling about this one.

\---

**[ kwon hoshi, master of love ] [3 Members]**

[ Chan changed the subject to ♥ ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for sticking with me through this rare ship spiral. ;___; 
> 
> thank you to the usuals -- Mimi, Raine, Boa, and April for tolerating my gdoc screencap dms that come through at 4am and for enabling me enough to finish this fic. God only knows how many I've abandoned because I'm not very good or fast when it comes to writing and I give up far too easily. you guys highkey saved this fic from the same fate and even made it fun :')
> 
> ANYWAY it's finished and I'm finally free!!! thank you again for leaving the loveliest comments and come yell about wonsoonchan with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bojios) because I love them a ridiculous amount


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